


Never Say Never

by silver_etoile



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Drinking, Hook-Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:13:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24558970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: They’ve already had a few beers, more than a few, and Chicco doesn’t wait for Rocco to join him as he moves to the roof edge, the rickety railing keeping them in, from falling into the dark abyss of the city spreading out at their feet.
Relationships: Chicco Rodi/Rocco Martuci
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Never Say Never

**Author's Note:**

> I... don't have an excuse for this.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://azozzoni.tumblr.com).

“Boom!” Chicco says as he maneuvers through the darkness of la grotta, grinning at the camera, adrenaline high as Rocco’s hand lands on his arm, yanking him forward.

“Turn off the camera already. They know how it’s done,” Rocco says, and he’s grinning at Chicco, curls wild as they duck under the low-hanging branches of a tree and scurry up the stairs.

The gate is chained at the top, and Chicco hauls himself up, dropping on the other side and catching the beers Rocco tosses to him over the top. They’ve brought too many, will leave the empties littering the roof for the groundskeeper to find, for the headmaster to rage at, but they’ll be long gone by the time they do.

“Fuck!” Rocco laughs again as he drops down next to Chicco and grabs a beer, cracking open the top, foam spurting from the can.

They’ve already had a few, more than a few, and Chicco doesn’t wait for Rocco to join him as he moves to the roof edge, the rickety railing keeping them in, from falling into the dark abyss of the city spreading out at their feet.

“Drink,” Rocco says, coming up behind him, a hand heavy on his shoulder, shoving the beer into his hand, helping him tip it down his throat.

Coughing, too much beer to swallow, Chicco shoves him away, snatching the beer from Rocco’s fingers, reaching out to ruffle his hair, leaving curls scattered over his forehead. Rocco’s eye roll, the subsequent way he shoves Chicco’s hand away does nothing to stop Chicco from grabbing onto him, an arm slung around his shoulder as they turn to the city, lights twinkling below them.

“That’s all ours,” he says, gesturing vaguely, ignoring Rocco’s snort.

“Is it?” he asks as the beer sloshes over Chicco’s fingers, leaving them cool and sticky.

“We’re kings,” Chicco proclaims, fingers skating over Rocco’s neck, fingernails down his skin, and Rocco twitches. “Nothing can stop us.”

“Edo might,” Rocco says, stealing the beer from his hand, taking a long swig, and Chicco shakes his head.

“Nah. He’s gone for that Eleonora girl.”

“You think?”

Chicco grins, sighing against Rocco’s shoulder. Sounds of the city rise to meet them--rushing cars, honking horns, ambulances wailing their way down the street--and he takes a deep breath of the cool night air.

This is how he wants to remember life. This moment. Completely free.

He’s not prepared for the way Rocco looks at him next, something so soft in his gaze that he can’t explain away with more beer, beer he drags from Rocco’s grip, crushes the can in his fist.

It tumbles to the floor when Rocco tilts his head, dark eyelashes sweeping against his cheeks as his gaze meets Chicco’s, lips parted, leans in.

Chicco has never explained this--never tried to--how his chest seizes when Rocco kisses him, hands on his face, a tongue in his mouth, turning whatever resolve he has to mush. He always wants this too much to stop it, wants to melt into it, enjoy the moment even though it won’t last long.

It doesn’t happen often, usually tasting like beer and weed, usually met with fumbling hands, scrambling to hold onto something, to make it last a little longer.

It tastes like sour beer this time, sounds like panted breaths as Rocco reaches for him, slides a hand around his waist and hauls him closer, hot pressed against his chest, heart pounding the way it always does.

Chicco’s never sure who’s in charge, if he really cares, if he needs to think about this beyond the fact that he always wants it when Rocco offers. They don’t talk about it after, later, hanging with the guys, don’t share any knowing glances, any lingering touches that mean something more.

Curling his fingers in Rocco’s hair, Chicco keeps him close, through messy kisses, a hurried groan when Rocco’s fingers slip under his belt, squeezing his eyes shut as he pulls away to breath against Rocco’s lips instead, heavy, wanting, pushing into the circle of Rocco’s fist, the air heady and thick between them.

Chicco likes girls, sure, but he likes this too, likes the way Rocco mouths at his throat, likes the way they shift together, wrapped up in a moment soon to end, something intoxicating and unspoken, communicated through clenching touches, sharp breaths against heated skin, teeth closing around soft skin and tugging.

Rocco’s eyes are closed when Chicco comes, too fast, too desperate for more, nose pressed to Rocco’s temple, breathing in the scent of his skin, alcohol on his breath, a lull that makes Chicco sigh as his body unwinds.

“Fuck,” he hears Rocco mutter, barely audible, only audible because his lips are inches from Chicco’s ears.

They’re kings, Chicco thinks as Rocco pulls away, and the moment seems to end as quickly as it started.

The whole world is theirs.

“Edo could never be in love,” Rocco says, continuing their conversation as though it never paused, grabbing another beer and cracking it open. 

For a moment, Chicco doesn’t reply, watching Rocco as he turns to face the twinkling city. He’s a bit more sober now, always is afterwards, always wonders if he should say something, ask. But he doesn’t. Never does.

“Never say never,” he says instead, throwing his arm over Rocco’s shoulder, and Rocco only looks his way for a second. It’s the only second Chicco needs.


End file.
